Kalion
by sumbuddyx
Summary: Just a quick chapter about a character called Kalion who somehow fits into the Star Wars universe. This was originally a prologue to a larger story. I am not sure if I will continue anymore of it. If you have any comments about the style of writing, please leave a comment.


**Prologue**

Maybe it was the cloying warm wind flowing from the open window of the train carriage across his body that made him shiver, but Kalion couldn't be sure. He'd stooped, head peering through the grime splattered on the glass out at the city beyond, bucking from left to right as the elevated train clattered ponderously into station, the doors pulling themselves apart with a Gods awful scream. Joining the small group of commuters desperate to get on with their lives, their faces lowered avoiding the billboards and LCD monitors that loomed over them, hardly a sound, even their coughing stifled and choked.

They turned a corner and his eyes moved from the young woman in front about to pass through the turnstiles, to the station security officer watching the progression. With both his hands down at his side he grazed the decapitated matchstick head against the striker he was holding, flicking it still from it's low position upwards and towards another commuter two people over to his right where it landed softly in the man's product stiffened hairstyle and proceeded to alight. Kalion jostled forward, grasping the young woman directly in front for support as they passed through the turnstiles, her turning to face him as he quietly apologized for his clumsiness, her eyes dimly aware of at least one of the multitude of sins he'd just committed.

He moved unhurriedly towards an exit, the sounds of security trying to calm his victim drowned out now as he moved alongside the busy speeder-laden streets. His throat was parched but his pockets were empty as usual and he tried to push the thought from his mind. The direction taking him away from city, he tried not to take in the smog filled transport-ridden skies and what pierced up into it. Dilapidated building after building, half-finished skyscrapers and the tallest tower in the city, Imperial HQ, in his peripheral vision, cutting the sky in half, a monstrous, lifeless erection. He felt his eyes burn just looking at it and tried to think about the seaside chalet once more, with the stone pillars and blue skies overhead and the sun shining down. He knew it had been just another mural by the overpass but he'd always been struck by it's beauty.

And it was with this thought in mind that he turned into the laneway adjacent to his apartment building, navigating up alongside the sloping wooden fence and leaf littered path. His boots splashed water as he stepped through the puddles along one side. He almost didn't hear them. The one behind him, well his face was in the wall before could make a noise, as Kalion whirled and lunged at him forcefully. His elbow hammered the side of his attacker's head and he brought his knee up into the assailant's lungs and felt the body go limp and slump to the ground. Crouching now, blaster pistol already in his hand at this point, he fired off several shots ahead at whoever else might be involved in this surprise party. The laser blasts ripped into the stone wall and he heard confused shouting and exclamations, he turned and rose to make a retreat. The fist came from nowhere and caught him on the jaw, knocking him back to the ground. Blood leaking from the new wound and pistol pointing in his face, he allowed his hands to withdraw from the pistol but both palms raised upright in surrender. "Wha…you wan?" he muttered, reeling from the pain still. The new assailant's eyes peered up to something away from Kalion's vantage point.

"Get up, piece of shit." A hard gruff voice of authority. Military, unmistakably, grinding the words like he would've fresh-faced recruits. Kalion slowly got to his feet, turning to take in this new person. Old and grey but with a face that had seen it's share of horrors and been marked forever by them. "Despara." The word hung there, not a question, but a statement. The name. "'Look on me and despair?'" Now that was question, with a hint of aggression attached. Just a hint. "You like that human stuff don't you 'Despara'? 'Kalion the Despara?'" The old man paced in a circle. And then brought his foot up into Kalion's face. The pain. His eyes rolled back in his head and he sank to his knees, shaking his head as if somehow the pain could magically disappear. "What is it with fucking kid's these days, with your opera and your hover cars and your-." He turned to his associate. "Those neural things my son's just bought, drive me fucking insane?"

"Rev Dem?"

Kalion coughed and rolled his eyes. "Dev Rem. You sack of-." The pistol stock smacked the side of his head, and then smashed his nose, and he fell forwards onto the pavement.

"Don't interrupt." And was it a sigh or some other exclamation that he could hear? Kalion grasped the pavement with his hands, raising to all fours, slowly pulling himself up into a kneeling position, exhaling softly. "Stupid fucking kids. Even our soldiers, trying the first language they hear, trying to bring out the fear in our enemy. Tell me kid, did your enemies fear you? Did they despair?" A laugh. "If they could see you now, you little bastard. If those stormtroopers could find you out here in the suburbs, safe from all those little bombs of yours. Relaxing."

"Oh for the Gods sake would you fucking kill me already, you ugly son of a bastard." His gaze was an unrelenting force, staring at the old man's brandished barrel, the eyes flickering in amusement behind, fingers ready to release.

Or so it seemed. The weapon lowered. "Not here to kill you kid. Here to talk." Kalion simply stared in bewilderment. "You're a little silent now, ain't ya. Smartmouth, punk." He motioned upwards with the pistol. "Go on, on your feet, Despara." The old man's exasperated eyes couldn't wait any longer. Kalion found an arm roughly drag him to a standing position, as the unflinching eyes bore into him. "Your lucky day."

Light flooded back into his eyes as the hood was withdrawn, eyes blinking as tried to take in the surroundings and who might've joined them. Shoved into a speeder-wagon, dragged along stone and carpet, so many steps, voices added and subtracted. And shoved through a wooden door to crash to a smooth floor, probably an apartment somewhere. He'd no idea where he'd turned up.

"Fucking trouble." One of the old man's lackeys muttering. "What he done to my hand!"

"Just a bit of grooming, Gods knows you sholes need it." Kalion's lip split open as the fist lashed out. "Sorry." He spat the build-up blood to the carpet. "Maybe you need more than I could offer." The hiss of irritation was a tasty snack. Fist caught him in the jaw and he laughed through the pain. Footsteps.

An exhale of annoyance. "Tell your boy to shut his mouth Telpher or I'll slit his throat." The voice came from behind Kalion and he it had the desired effect on his captors. Kalion turned his head as the new person placed two wooden chairs down before them, taking one for himself and motioning Kalion to the other. Dressed in a formal grey suit, close cropped mane and short beard. Serious eyes studied him, not like the labor that had brought him here. "Sorry about the way you were treated. Wasn't meant to be that way."

Kalion shrugged. "Yeah, well, haven't had a good workout like that in a while." He turned to the lackeys, smirking. "Ain't that right, fellas." Clenched teeth and near audible curses bit back, and he turned back to the suit. "What you want then?"

The suit's mouth twisted and this surprised Kalion, though he tried not to show it. Something about his demeanour. As if he'd been practicing this moment for a while, maybe at home in front of the mirror, but now, when the time came for a performance, he couldn't remember the lines. "You've got skills, Kalion. We think we can use them."

"In what?"

The suit shuffled, a little uncomfortable with the directness. "We've got a project underway, small for now, soon to be big though, quite big. But it needs a little," he said, pausing, searching for the right word, "direction."

"Yeah, with what, you vague sonofabitch?" Kalion recognized the look, the same one the old man had worn not long before. No, not the same. Something was different. There was something underneath that business façade. Something deadly. The suit cocked his head to one side, studying him, and then laughed. "You're alright, kid." He motioned to a side room, his voice raising a few octaves. "Why don't you tell him?"

Kalion stared at the doorway, waiting for the boss, or the soldier, or the deal maker, or whoever to walk through to make him a offer he couldn't refuse. Then, he figured, he'd probably knife most of them, take the weapons from the rest and kill them all. Achievable, he wasn't sure. But he'd start with the lackeys, he mused, for the fun of it.

But he saw grey. Dark grey, wrapped around the body in a formal uniform, matching grey formal hat perched on top. Blue and red emblems attached to the breast in rows. His pulse quickened as he sat upright, eyes widening, ready for anything….anything but this. A blasted officer of the Galactic Empire.

And he sensed Kalion's unease and simply put his hands out in front. "It's not what you think." And Kalion looked to the suit, and to the old man, and to the lackeys, and realized it wasn't, even if he wasn't sure what it wasn't. Or what it was. And he sensed that too. "Let me tell you what we're going to do. Let me tell you how we're going to change the world."


End file.
